Morning gorgoeus xx
How are you all today? Good I hope. If not, I do hope things improve soon.
OK, if you follow the blog you’ll probably have guessed I’ve been working through some issues recently. Losing my Job, losing my parents, breaking my fingers, massive dysphoria, etc. None of it has been particularly pretty but all have been essential for my personal development. Why the title of the post? And who is Bert? Well if you follow me, you will know that Bert is my old persona. His was the body I was born into, the shell that carried me for 45 years. His was the image that was presented to the world.
He is gone now. In the last 24 hours. May he rest in peace…
You see, we all have that little voice in our head; our inner self. It’s the voice that keeps us safe, helps us make decisions and answers our questions when there is no one else around to do so – It’s built into all our subconscious. The problem I’ve had with my transition; is I’ve had two of them. One that constantly refers to itself as Bert; ‘Bert did this’, ‘it would be better if Bert did that’, etc. And one which appeared after transition, and has had to constantly correct the other one to say Vikki. It’s been a bit crowded in there.
So what did I do about this? See a psychiatrist for schizophrenia of course… NOT. It sounds like a mental illness, it sounds weird, but it’s not. You see, once you realise your gender identity and you realise its different from what you’ve been assigned, you have to find coping mechanisms until you can put that right. You may, like me, have to live your life as the opposite gender and identify as that until such time as the Transition can take place. Well taking that course of action can, but not always does, create a second identity within you – That’s how your mind learns to cope, that’s how I learned to cope with the Transition; definitely.
Well, recently, that old identity has been trying to take over and break through to the surface again. I’ve given it cause to by stopping wearing wigs, etc. But without that; I think it would have tried to break through with everything that has happened. So last night, I sat down and I went in there to deal with him – I’m sorry, he just doesn’t serve any purpose anymore. But he won’t shut up! Grrr.
Someone said to me recently that they’ve been seeing more of Bert than Me, and they were worried I’d start to de-transition; or worse. And I said that’s not right, and their reply was “Do something about it”. They went on to explain that it is common for Transgender individuals to have these feelings and that full transition cannot go ahead until it has been dealt with, it holds you back. She suggested a funeral, that the old persona needed to “die” and be buried; but not forgotten. She said that only then will you learn to grow and flourish into the person you are supposed to be.
So that’s what is going to happen. I wen’t into my head last night with a Gun and made sure I found him; hiding away behind some boxes with a link to my internal intercom in his hand. And I shot him. Dead. Cold. It was an extremely dysphoric experience and not like any other dysphoric experience I’ve had before, I really felt like I was taking control; that I was on the other side now and I needed to destroy the bridge – there is no going back. And soon, within the next week, I will hold another funeral. Bert is dead, it’s time to bury him.
I’m wearing a wig today. My hair is too short. It needs styling because I look like a man; but I’m OK with that, there’s lots of women that wear wigs. I use female expressions more and talk in my, female, voice. I feel like me. Feminine. Vikki.
And it’s nice.